Chance have ye got like?by Andrew Velzian

Genre:DramaSwearwords: A couple of strong ones.Description:When the odds are stacked against visitors to the city._____________________________________________________________________William had been looking forward to the game all week, rushes
of adrenaline every time his mind returned to thoughts of the televised Friday
night showcase. A child on Christmas Eve was a manic depressive compared to the
excitement he now felt standing outside the ground an hour before kick-off.

Five hours before he’d been in a city centre bar with some colleagues who were also going to the game, necking vodka and dusting off a few lines of coke. Then it was home for a shower and a quick change of clothes before heading to the ground. They were all buzzing and fully expected a comprehensive victory against the Fifers and hopefully a wee set-to afterwards with the away support.Watching the away fans sing and bounce their way through the turnstiles made his bile rise as he felt nothing but disdain and revulsion as the east coasters descended into his hallowed ground, walking past him as if he was invisible. This was his city for fuck sake. By half-time William’s team were cruising 3 v 0, yet he still wasn’t entirely happy by the home fans being out-sung again. This, he was loathe to admit, was a constant theme at home games unless it was against that other Glasgow team. He got in a few verbal digs as the second half wore on, but it did little to ease the frustration at having to watch these bastards cheer on a bunch of part-timers who, although now being 4 v 0 down, were having a party. Still, they would get theirs after the match, there was little doubt of that and although his age and respectability meant he would not be partaking in the actual violence, he and his pals would certainly not be intervening if they bore witness. I mean, you don’t get to where you are at this stage of life by swinging your fists like a ten a penny hooligan.It was always a masterstroke by the powers that be that kept away fans in the ground to let the home fans out first. In the odd moments of clarity William did wonder about the logic behind these decisions as surely travelling supporters had to do just that; travel, but then again he really didn’t give a shit, it was their problem not his. He was always late out of the ground but with the travelling scum penned in it meant he should still see a bit of the action.The Fifers would be coming this way, it was the closest subway, and from there they would be in the city centre in about ten minutes. If they were made to walk around the stadium to the other subway then it’s a considerable amount of time added to the journey, and of course where there was a greater chance of ambush away from the CCTV. William waited with his friends and colleagues in a line that stretched from pavement to pavement. “Ready boys? Here they come...” “POLICE LINE, DO NOT CROSS,” shouted William. “PLEASE GO ROUND THE STADIUM TO _______ STREET STATION.” It was at moments like this that William loved his job, I mean really loved his job.